


Hope's Tears

by Piscaria



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ciel doesn't think Lizzie can survive in his world, and she's determined to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope's Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/gifts).



The hot slap of sound and her stinging palm broke through the red haze of Lizzy’s anger. Shocked, she met Ciel’s wide-eyed gaze. The imprint of her hand was already rising against his pale cheek. 

The drawing room door opened, breaking their tableaux. Guiltily dropping her hand, Lizzy clenched her fist into her satin skirt to hide her reddened palm. Ciel straightened, turning to face Sebastian.

“Young master, is everything alright?” 

Ciel opened his mouth, possibly to reassure Sebastian, possibly to order him to escort Lizzy out. She didn’t wait to learn which. Spinning on her ugly, flat heels, Lizzy shoved past Sebastian and fled through the drawing room door. Paula, who’d been giggling in the corridor Mey-Rin, glanced up as Lizzy ran past her.

“Lady Elizabeth?”

“Leave me alone!” Lizzy sobbed. “Don’t you dare follow me!” 

Gathering her skirt to keep from tripping, she ran down the stairs. The memory of Ciel’s cruel words spurred her even faster. She knew she must be a sight, with her skirts hiked up past the ankle and tears on her face, but for once in her life, she didn't care how cute she looked. How could Ciel have said those things to her? 

The heavy oak doors to the Phantomhive manor swung open for her – Sebastian’s doing, possibly, though Lizzy didn’t bother to look. Her carriage still waited at the end of the drive, but she couldn’t go home, not in this state. Her family would be upset enough when they learned what had happened. God knew that if Edward saw her in tears, her brother would likely challenge her betrothed – former betrothed, she reminded herself with a hiccuping sob – to a duel. Then Lizzy would have to intervene, and Ciel must already think she was a brutish thing after that business on the Campania. Why else would he have tossed her aside? 

Sinking onto one of the stone benches decorating the rose garden, Lizzy buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Footsteps sounded in the gravel. She glanced up, hoping it was Ciel, but knowing it was probably just Paula coming to check on her. But it wasn’t Ciel or Paula, but Sebastian. Lizzy tensed, waiting for him to guide her back to her carriage. Instead, he produced a crisp handkerchief from a pocket. She took it, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose.

“I am sorry,” Sebastian said. “I know the last thing my master would want to do is cause you pain.” 

Lizzy sniffled, gazing out at the rose garden before her so she wouldn’t have to see Sebastian’s kind, concerned gaze. She’d imagined walking hand in hand with Ciel through this garden, imagined someday chasing their children about the sprawling paths of the estate. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and she shook her head, crumping the handkerchief in her fist.

“Then why did he say those things?” she choked.

Sebastian sighed. To her surprise, he sank down beside her on the stone bench. It was a shocking breach of impropriety for a butler to sit beside a noblewoman, but even so, Lizzy was glad for his warm presence beside her. She'd always liked Sebastian, and not just because his arrival had accompanied Ciel's miraculous reappearance. Sebastian was the one person in the world who might care for Ciel even a fraction as much as she did, so Lizzy felt a certain kinship with him.

“My young master is accustomed to living with a certain amount danger due to his role as the Queen’s Guard Dog,” Sebastian explained, sounding oddly hesitant. “He fears to put you at risk.” 

It was, more or less, the same speech Ciel had given her before, though Sebastian had phrased it much more kindly. As she had in the drawing room, Lizzy protested, “But I can take care of myself! _And_ him! You know, Sebastian! You saw me fight!” 

Sebastian inclined his head. “Indeed. I believe that was the moment my young master realized he could not keep you away from the darkness that surrounds him, however much he might wish it.” 

The words brought the hot flush of anger back to her stomach, and Lizzy gripped Sebastian’s sleeve. “But if Ciel’s place is in the darkness, mine is right there beside him! Why can’t he see that?”

Sebastian’s gloved hand settled over hers for a second, just long enough to extricate her fingers from the fine wool of his tailcoat. Patting the back of her hand as he withdrew, Sebastian said, “Do remember that the previous Earl of Phantomhive died in a suspicious fire, as did the Countess. No doubt, my young master fears you might suffer the same fate.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lizzy sniffed. “He can’t push away everyone who loves him. He lets you fight for him!” 

“I am not one of my master's intimates," Sebastian corrected at once. "I am merely one hell of a butler.” His lips quirked, as though at some private joke. “The young master needn’t worry for my sake.” 

But Lizzy shook her head. “No,” she said, proud that only a little bitterness touched her voice. “I’ve known Ciel since we were very young. I can tell when he cares about somebody.” She remembered Ciel’s face in the drawing room, his single eye wide with pain and shock. Regret suddenly seized her. She had _struck_ Ciel, whom she’d sworn to protect and cherish. Mother was right – Lizzy's temper was awful. She should have reasoned with Ciel, made him see that he was being a fool. Instead, she’d ruined everything. 

“He must hate me now,” she said in a small voice.

To her surprise, Sebastian’s gloved hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing tight. “I doubt that very much, my lady.” 

Lizzy turned, catching Sebastian’s hand in hers. “Promise me you’ll take care of him!” she said. “If Ciel insists on breaking off our engagement, he’ll have nobody else!”

Keeping hold of her hand, Sebastian stood, then dropped to one knee before her, bowing his head over their joined hands. “My lady,” Sebastian intoned, “I swear that I shall be beside my young master until the very end.”

The promise settled some of the worry inside her, and she sighed, rising wearily to her feet. Now that she’d stopped crying, her eyes and cheeks felt puffy, sore from the salt. “I have to clean up before I go home,” she said. 

Sebastian nodded, standing rather more gracefully than Lizzy had. “Of course,” he said. “If you’ll follow me . . .” He led her through a side door, and showed her to a tiny powder room she’d never seen. Someone had already thought to fill a basin with cool, lavender scented water. Dipping a towel into it, she dabbed at her face. Her reflection was a mess, all red cheeks and swollen eyes. The sight of it almost made the tears spring up again. She didn’t look like a lady fit to marry an earl. She looked like a little girl.

She jumped when the door opened, but it was only Paula. 

“Oh, Lady Elizabeth!” she cried, and Lizzy allowed herself to be fussed over. It was a relief to surrender herself to Paula’s capable hands. Ten minutes later, looking far less a wreck, Lizzy exited the powder room, with Paula following close behind her.

She had both hoped and feared Ciel might be waiting for her outside, but there was only Sebastian. He offered his hand to help her into the carriage, and she took it. But once she’d ascended the step, she kept ahold of him, not immediately taking her seat.

“Sebastian,” she said. At his curious glance, she lifted her chin. “I know you meant well,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have spoken as freely as you did in the garden. However much they pain me, Ciel’s reasons are his own. He wouldn’t like you sharing them with me.” 

An emotion she couldn’t quite name flashed in those cherrywood eyes before Sebastian lowered his gaze, chastened. “Of course, my lady. Forgive me for speaking out of turn.” 

Propriety satisfied, Lizzy nodded. She’d done right by Ciel, though he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. “We both want what’s best for him,” she said by way of forgiveness. Releasing Sebastian, she took her seat inside the carriage. A second later, Paula was clambering in beside her. 

Lizzy avoided her governess’s worried eyes, glancing instead out the window, where the Phantomhive manor gleamed in the sunlight. Was it her imagination, or did she see a slim figure watching them from one of the upstairs windows. _Whatever it takes,_ she thought, _I will make you see that my place is by your side._

But as the carriage started away from the manor, she swore she heard Sebastian’s voice. _I don’t doubt it, my lady._

* * *

 

That night, Lizzy curled around her Bitter Rabbit, deep in thought. Ciel hadn’t given her the rabbit, of course. He’d never be so gauche as to give Lizzy a present produced by his own company, let alone anything as childish as a toy. No, Ciel always bought her silks and jewels, presents befitting a lady. But Lizzy had seen the frowning rabbit in a shop window in London, and insisted her father buy it for her. She knew Ciel had probably designed it as some kind of joke — he’d always had a wry sense of humor, which the fire and his brief disappearance had darkened, left twisted and sharp. With its exquisitely tailored waistcoat and black eye patch, and even its frown (though Lizzy would only admit that to herself), the rabbit couldn’t help but remind her of Ciel. Sometimes she wondered if Ciel had designed the Bitter Rabbit as a kind of surrogate to soak up all the love he would never deign to accept himself, not even from Lizzy. 

Ciel would scoff at the idea. But Lizzy remembered him curling in his mother’s lap to listen to a story, embracing Lizzy hello and goodbye, laughing as his father scooped him into the air: somewhere deep inside Ciel, that need for love and touch must still remain, albeit as wounded and bitter as this rabbit. She pressed her palm to a furry cheek, remembering how she’d struck Ciel. If she looked back, she could see he’d been trying to anger her. 

“How could I possibly take _you_ as a wife?” he’d sneered, and other, worse things. 

But even if he had been trying to provoke her (and Ciel knew too well where her sore points were) it was no excuse. _“I know the last thing my master would want to do is cause you pain,”_ Sebastian had said. But Ciel had hurt her, Lizzy thought with sudden anger, rolling away from the rabbit’s frown; Ciel’s weapon was his wit, just as hers was a sword, and he’d turned it against her! And she’d tried so best to look cute for him, too, in her pearl-buttoned dress and her pink hair ribbon, and those horrid, flat shoes! Love was like a rose garden, she decided, lovely from the outside, but thorny to the touch. 

She would have to try harder. _We’re Midfords,_ her mother would say, _when we see a mountain, we climb it!_

 _I am a Midford,_ Lizzy thought, running her thumb over the sword callouses on her palm. _And I will someday be the wife of a Phantomhive. I won’t surrender!_

For all his bravery, Ciel feared love, feared opening himself to it, feared suffering again its loss. But Lizzy wasn’t afraid — she would prove to Ciel that she could stand beside him in the darkness without flinching, that love had thorns, but also sweetness and joy.

* * *

“Please, Lady Elizabeth!” Paula pleaded, as Lizzy pulled the velvet hood of her cloak around her face. “Your parents will kill me!” 

They might, at that: no young woman of good repute should be caught in this tea house, preferable as it was to the opium den that her contact also owned. But it couldn't be helped.

"I'm doing this, Paula," Lizzy said. "You can wait outside if you'd like."

But Paula followed as she stepped through the doorway. Once inside, Lizzy couldn’t help but gasp at the abundance of bare skin: bare thighs, bare shoulders, even one bare midriff! The waitress’s costumes put even some of Nina Hopkins’ more risqué designs to shame.

“Why hasn’t this place been shut down for indecency?” Paula hissed.

“Surely, in the midst of so much murder and theft, London’s commissioners have better things to worry about than my little establishment,” a mild voice responded. 

She recognized the man who approached her from one of Ciel’s rare dinner parties — now, as then, he had an arm around his beautiful “sister,” Ran-Mao. Ignoring her misgivings (and Paula’s pleading glance), Lizzy dropped into a curtsy, and allowed him to kiss her hand.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Lau.”

“Charmed, as always,” Lau responded in kind, “though I must admit how surprised I was to receive your letter. Lovely young noblewomen so rarely ask to meet with me. Such a shame, really, for I am an ardent admirer of beauty,” he said, absently stroking Ran-Mao’s bare arm.

“I need to talk to you privately,” Lizzy said, noting with dismay that some of the tea house’s other patrons glanced up at the sound of her decidedly feminine voice. 

“This way,” Lau said, taking Lizzy’s arm and guiding her towards a curtained-off room in the back of the tea house, a bored Ran-Mao still draped over his other side, and a frowning Paula close at their heels. Brocaded curtains lined the walls of this new room, and lush cushions were scattered over the thick carpets; the air smelled of incense and something sharper; when Lao turned to close the curtains behind them, the sunlight from the shop windows faded, leaving the room lit by dancing lantern flames. Lau made a production of pouring tea for everyone. The pot and the tea cups were both made of ruddy clay, smooth and comforting to the touch. The aroma drifting up with the steam was honey-sweet and faintly floral. Ciel would have probably recognized it. 

Across from her, Lau blew across the steaming surface of the teacup and lifted it for Ran-Mao, who pursed her lips prettily and sipped. Was this the place women had in the underworld? If her plan worked, would she be expected to drape herself across Ciel at business meetings, to eat and drink from his hand? No, she decided, almost as soon as the thought occurred to her — for one thing, Ciel would never allow it. For another, as much as the thought of eating sweets from Ciel's hands made her insides feel warm and tingly, Lizzy couldn’t see herself relegated to Ran-Mao’s role. It had to be hard for Ran-Mao, to never be seen for herself, but only as an extension of Lau, though he clearly doted on her. How could Ran-Mao be content with that life? 

Ran-Mao’s dark eyes flicked to her, and Lizzy blushed, realizing she’d been caught staring. 

“That color is beautiful on you,” she said quickly, offering Ran-Mao a shy smile. 

The older woman nodded in bored acknowledgement. 

“Every color is beautiful on her,” Lau said, sliding an arm around Ran-Mao’s shoulders. She leaned into the touch, nuzzling her face against Lau’s shoulder. He smiled indulgently at her before turning his attention to Lizzy.

“Now then, let’s get down to business, shall we? I can understand why a young woman of your standing might need to approach me this way. I assure you I am the very soul of discretion! I’ve provided my wares to many nobles who couldn’t be seen at my usual place of work.” 

It took a second for Lizzy to realize what he meant. Then, horrified, she sputtered, “You think I’m here for — for _opium_?” 

Paula’s hand closed around her wrist almost painfully. “Please, let’s go, my lady!” 

Lizzy shook her off, never breaking eye contact with Lau.

“Why not?” Lau asked. “I can’t think of anything else you might need from me that you couldn’t get more easily from your betrothed. But the Earl of Phantomhive’s disdain for opium is well known.” 

“I share his disdain,” Lizzy said coldly. “I’m here for information, Lau. That’s all.”

“Information?” Lau asked, a look of genuine surprise breaking across his face. “What on earth could I possibly know that the Queen’s Guard Dog wouldn’t?” 

“Information _about_ the Queen’s Guard Dog,” Lizzy clarified. 

“You want to know if he’s been faithful to you,” Lau said, giving her a knowing look. “Well, my dear, I will tell you that for free — the only person who’s ever seen in his company is that butler of his.” It was an innocent enough statement, but something about Lau’s tone made it sound like an accusation, though Lizzy couldn’t even begin to figure out what he was implying.

“What? No! Of course Ciel is true to me! He’s never even _looked_ at another girl!” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, almost a screech in the quiet room. 

For some reason, Lau’s s smirk only deepened. But he only said, “No? Well, I suppose you would know best. Then what on earth did you want to know?” 

“Tell me about his current case.” 

“The weapons smuggling?” Lau asked, genuine bemusement breaking through his voice. Ran-Mao lifted an eyebrow. Quickly, Lau tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry,” he said, falling somewhat short of the pleasant, slightly bored tone he’d been using earlier. “I’m afraid I know nothing about that.” 

“I can pay you!” Lizzy’s rose-embroidered reticule jingled audibly as she pulled it from the folds of her skirt, sitting on the table between them. 

Lau eyed it like a poisonous snake. “My dear,” he said, “No amount of money in the world is worth earning the wrath of the Queen’s Guard Dog.” Then his eyes narrowed, and he stood, placing his hands on the table so he towered over her. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? It’s some kind of test!” Lau shook his head in disgust. “Well, you can tell your fiancee that I’ve passed it!”

“That’s not —!” Lizzy started.

But Lau had already stalked from the room, leaving the curtains swinging angrily behind him. 

Paula patted Lizzy’s slumped shoulder. “It’s for the best, Lady Elizabeth,” she said. “You have no business getting mixed up in all of this.” 

“But Paula!” Lizzy sniffed, wiping at her eyes. She’d never met any of Ciel’s other contacts, and had no idea where to even begin making introductions in the underworld. Lau had been her only hope. “I just want to prove to Ciel that I can handle myself!” 

“The docks,” an alto voice said. 

Startled, Lizzy glanced across the table. She’d almost forgotten about Ran-Mao, whom Lau had left curled up on the cushion they’d been sharing, one elbow propped on the table and her cheek resting on her hand. 

“What did you say?” 

Ran-Mao sat up and stretched, rolling her shoulders luxuriantly. “The docks,” she repeated. “Your fiancee is investigating a weapons smuggler called Cedric Brandel. His warehouse is by the docks. He’s expecting a shipment tonight.” 

“Oh thank you!” Lizzy threw herself around the table, wrapping her arms around the older woman. Ran-Mao gave her cheek a rather cat-like nuzzle, then pulled back. 

“You didn’t hear it from me.” 

“Of course not!” Lizzy agreed hastily. Then she frowned, eyeing Ran-Mao. “But why did you help me?” 

“Because I wanted to,” Ran-Mao said, eyes sparkling. And, rising, she sauntered away after Lau.

* * *

Brandel’s building sat at the edge of a long row of warehouses, noticeably shabbier than its companions. Two of the windows had been boarded up, and whatever color the peeling paint had once been, it now perfectly matched the mud beneath Lizzy’s feet. She was glad she’d chosen her boots instead of her usual delicate slippers, even if the heel did emphasize her height. 

From the shadows behind the warehouse, Lizzy heard the occasional boom of laughter. She could see light flickering from behind the boarded windows, and the occasional silhouette of broad-shouldered men moving around inside. She needed to get closer. But how? She couldn’t exactly walk in through the door.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was walking, Lizzy risked creeping into the light to give the building an assessing look.The window closest to the street had been boarded solidly, but the boards across the third-story window looked loose to her eye, almost as if an industrious robber had already pried them up. A drainpipe snaked along the shabbily painted wall only a foot away from that window. It didn’t look very sturdy, but Lizzy was light enough, and she was a better climber than her brother, Edward. 

Lizzy took hold of the drainpipe and gingerly hoisted herself up. It gave a squeal of protest at her weight, but held. Wincing, she held herself still against the dingy wall of the building, waiting to see if anyone had heard. But the men inside were still laughing. She didn’t think she’d been noticed.

Hand over hand, she hauled herself up the drainpipe, grateful for the hours of arm-strengthening exercises Mother included in Lizzy’s sword training. It was harder than climbing a tree. The drainpipe was slippery, and several times, she slid down a few feet before managing to regain her grip and start the ascent again. And thank goodness she’d worn the breeches and padded jacket she always used for practice, not one of her dresses. The front of her must be streaked with rust.

After what felt like an hour of climbing, Lizzy hauled herself to the level of the window. There, she paused for a moment, clinging to the drainpipe. This was the part she’d been dreading. Biting her lip, she looked at the window, about two feet away. She’d been right — someone had already pried the top board free of the wall. One end of it hung loose, the bottom board still looked secure enough. 

Cautiously, Lizzy shifted her weight to her right arm, freeing her left hand and flexing the fingers, which had started to go numb from holding onto the drainpipe so tightly. _Don’t look down,_ she reminded herself, and reached. She caught hold of the board across the bottom of the window, giving it a tug. As she’d expected, it was still hammered firmly into place. Holding as tight as she could, she released the drainpipe, clamping her other hand over the edge of the board. The wood creaked as it took her weight, but the nails held strong. 

Lizzy leaned her forehead against the wall, trying to calm her heart. _Just haul yourself up and in,_ she told herself. _On the count of three. One. Two._

A white-gloved hand emerged from inside the window, gripping hold of the loose top board above Lizzy’s head and ripping it free with a single, violent motion. It clattered to the ground, and Lizzy yelped. Instinctively, she held as tight as she could with her left hand, reaching her right down to grip her sword pommel. The blade came up in a swift, practiced arc, the wicked tip hovering inches from the face of . . .

“ _Sebastian?_ ”

“Good evening, Lady Elizabeth,” he said, giving her the same pleasant, impersonal smile he always wore when pouring her tea. With one finger, he nudged away the sword blade, then held out his hand. “Might I offer my assistance?” 

Numbly, Lizzy re-sheathed the sword, and took his hand. Sebastian’s pulled her up with strength she wouldn’t have expected from such a slender man, easily lifting her in in through the window.

From within the room, came Ciel’s voice, hushed but obviously impatient. “Who is it, Sebastian? Why haven’t you taken care of them yet?” He knelt with his back to them, ear pressed to the floor. 

“In this case, I think you would prefer I didn’t, young master,” Sebastian said, helping Lizzy to her feet. 

“Why on earth would I want that?” Ciel said, lifting his head and turning to scowl at Sebastian. Then he caught sight of Lizzy, and his jaw dropped. She tugged self-consciously at the rust-stained front of her jacket, giving him an embarrassed smile.

“ _Lizzy_?!” 

Sebastian gave Ciel a warning look, meaningfully lifting a finger to his lips.

Dropping his voice, Ciel asked,“What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping you, silly!” she said, trying her best not to wilt under the glare he was giving her. God, why hadn't she worn a skirt? It may have been impractical, but it was always easier to fake confidence when she at least knew she was cute.

“I don’t _need_ help!" Ciel whispered vehemently. "Go home this instant!”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Master?” Sebastian asked. “This is hardly a fit neighborhood for a young lady to wander alone.”

“I made it here just fine!” Lizzy protested.

At the same time, Ciel said, “Then _you_ take her home!” 

“No!” Lizzy whispered, as loudly as she dared. 

Fortunately, Sebastian, too, was shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Master. Leaving you here unprotected would go entirely against my aesthetic as a butler.” 

Lizzy caught Ciel's arm. “Please, I can help you! You’ve seen me fight!”

He shook her off, giving a disgusted huff. “These are weapons smugglers, Lizzy! What good will a sword do against guns?” 

In response, Lizzy reached into the top of her boot to pull out the revolver she’d holstered there. “I can take care of myself.”

“If you think I’m going to let you get anywhere near the fighting —”

“Young master, might I make a suggestion?” Sebastian interrupted smoothly. “If you see fit, I will create a distraction and draw the dock workers outside. Then you and Lady Elizabeth can search for the tunnel in relative safety.”

“The tunnel?” Lizzy asked in confusion.

“Yes, my lady,” Sebastian said. “We've heard rumors that Brandel’s men have dug a tunnel beneath the house to move their weapons more easily.” 

Ciel was frowning. For a terrible second, Lizzy thought he was going to insist they all go home, never mind the smugglers. Then he sighed, glaring daggers at Lizzy. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll search for the tunnel. Sebastian, make sure nobody comes in!”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian said, bowing low. Then, to Lizzy’s surprise, he turned and vaulted easily out the window. 

Gasping, Lizzy thrust her head out the window, terrified she’d find him crumpled on the ground, nursing a broken bone or worse. But he was gone. 

“Ciel!”

"Shh!" he hissed. “Wait!” Lifting a hand, he silently counted down with his fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Outside, an explosion sounded, loud enough to rock the building. Lizzy gasped, clinging to Ciel. Downstairs, men were yelling, “The ship!” Footsteps thundered across the floor. 

A tiny, vicious smile touched Ciel’s lips, smugness momentarily replacing his anger. “That was Sebastian,” he said in his normal speaking voice. “We’re all right now. Come on.” Turning, he slammed open the door and stomped into the corridor, letting Lizzy scramble to catch up. 

Downstairs, the building was one large room, filled with barrels. Taking a crowbar from the floor, Ciel pried one open, the exertion bringing sweat to his hairline and a ruddy flush to his usually pale skin. Lizzy fisted her hands in her trousers, willing herself not to offer to help. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him, especially when he was already mad at her. 

Finally, the lid came free, and Ciel shoved the barrel over, spilling black tea leaves across the floor. He poked through them with the toe of his shoe, frowning. 

“Too bad,” he muttered, wiping his brow. 

“What’s too bad?” 

Ciel glared at her, and she wondered if he might be childish enough to refuse to answer. Then he sighed, and grudgingly explained, “His tea is foul enough I thought he might be stowing the guns in the barrels of leaves. Then he could ship them out of the city through normal means. But it looks like the tunnel rumor must be true after all.” Planting his hands on his hips, he surveyed the warehouse. “There’s probably a trap door hidden somewhere. You start looking in the far corner. I’ll start here.”

“But, Ciel, I want to stay with you!” 

“Do you want to help or not?” he snapped. 

Wincing at the anger in his voice, she relented, trudging to the corner he’d indicated. She’d hoped that, in searching for the tunnel, she and Ciel might have a chance to talk. But she couldn’t very well shout across the warehouse. Frustrated, she channeled her anger into shoving aside barrels to search the floor beneath. Though they held nothing but tea, they were still heavy. Before long, her face was hot with the exertion and her muscles ached. Even across the warehouse, she could hear Ciel panting, though the one time she tried to ask if he was okay, he gave her such a venomous glare that the words died in her throat. 

They worked in silence, punctuated only by the occasional muffled explosion or scream from outside. The first few times that happened, Lizzy jumped, but as Ciel seemed entirely unconcerned, she tried to follow his example. What could Sebastian possibly be doing to cause that much of a ruckus, though? She hoped the butler would be okay.

At last, Lizzy came to a barrel that didn’t move even when she leaned her full weight against it. Frowning, she stepped back, giving it a second look. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was darker than its companions, the wood smooth and shiny, not faded and weather beaten. It also appeared to be quite firmly fastened to the floor.

“Ciel!” 

In a second, he was by her side, examining the barrel. With the crowbar, he pried the top free. By this point, Lizzy half-expected to find a ladder leading down. But instead, it seemed full of machinery. 

“What is it, Ciel?”

He was frowning at it, one finger tapping thoughtfully against the wooden rim of the barrel. “I wonder . . .” he mused aloud, then glanced at Lizzy, so excited in that moment that he forgot to glare. “Help me turn it!” 

Puzzled, Lizzy did as he asked, taking firmly ahold of one side of the barrel, while he gripped the other. Sure as he’d said, the wooden barrel rotated within the brass rim fixing it to the floor, though it had clearly been designed for stronger muscles than Ciel’s and Lizzy’s. When they managed to make a quarter turn, something clicked deep within the barrel.

With a great rumbling and grinding of wood on wood, the entire back wall of the warehouse slid away, revealing a stairway leading down into the darkness. 

The dim light of the warehouse gradually faded away as they descended. Lizzy bit her lip, wishing she had a candle. She could barely see the steps beneath her feet. She glanced sidelong at Ciel, wondering if he were as scared as she was. She couldn’t make out his expression, but he moved down the steps surely, never hesitating.

“You’re very brave,” she told him, her voice echoing oddly in the stairwell.

He didn't say anything at first, but she felt him pause beside her. After a long moment, he said, “I’m not, really. It’s just that nothing down here can possibly be worse than what I’ve already seen.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond to the bitterness in his voice. Tentatively, she reached for his hand. He let her take it, squeezing her palm reassuringly. They started down again.

After awhile, Ciel asked, “Lizzy, why did you come here?”

“You said that a wife would only get in your way,” she told him, feeling tears come to her eyes again at the memory of their fight. “I just wanted to prove that I could help you! I don’t care how dangerous your life is, Ciel! I love you! I want to be a part of it! If you just give me a chance, I’ll show you! I can be useful!” 

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded subdued. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I know you can handle yourself. I saw you on the Campania.” 

“Then why—“

A shot rang out, interrupting the question. Over their heads, Lizzy felt the heat of a bullet ricocheting past. 

"Damn it!" Ciel muttered, pulling Lizzy back against the wall. "There must be a guard down there!"

A second shot followed, and Ciel pulled a gun from beneath his coat, as Lizzy instinctively reached for her sword. A third shot cracked the darkness, and Ciel cried out.

“Ciel!?” she cried, but his hand clapped down hard over her mouth. 

“Pretend!” he whispered in her ear. “There’s no use shooting blindly!” Releasing her, he dropped to his knees, letting his body fall with a muffled thud. He lay there, still as death.

Lizzy drew back, sword at the ready, hoping the shadows would hide her. 

Sure enough, the shooting stopped. Footsteps started up the stairs — only one set, she thought, listening as hard as she could. A shadowed figure came into view, leaning over Ciel. 

With a cry, Lizzy leaped from the shadows, plunging her sword into his chest. He stared down at it, horrified, then fell backwards. Rising, Ciel gave the man a disdainful look. 

“It will take more than that to kill the Queen’s Guard Dog!” 

With a trembling hand, the dying man lifted his gun, aiming it straight at Ciel. 

“No!” Lizzy screamed , shoving him out of the way. The bullet slammed into the wall beside her head. The man gurgled something that might have been a curse, and fell silent. And Ciel, caught off balance, fell, tumbled down the remaining stairs, landing at the bottom with a crunch of bone and a cry of pain.

“Ciel!” Lizzy hurried down to crouch beside him. In the darkness, she could barely make out his face, drawn with pain. “Ciel, what is it? Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle,” he gasped. 

“Oh, Ciel, I’m so sorry!” she sobbed. “That was my fault!” 

“No,” Ciel caught her hand and squeezed it. “If you hadn’t shoved me, I would have been shot.” He huffed out a weak laugh. “Sebastian must have faith in you. He didn’t think my life was in danger.” 

“You’re not making any sense,” Lizzy sniffed. “Did you hit your head?” Kneeling on the stone floor beside him, she lifted his head, pillowing on her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, but couldn’t find any trace of an injury. 

Ciel batted her fingers away when they touched the string of his eyepatch. “You should go,” he said, pointing shakily back up the stairs. “Get help. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you!” 

He shook his head. “Just need . . . to call Sebastian.” His voice was getting weaker. She caught the gleam of moisture in his blue eye.

Hugging him close, she said, “Ciel, I can't leave you here! What if another guard comes? You'd be helpless!”

His hand tightened on hers. “Lizzy,” he said, sounding oddly hesitant. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do!”

“If I asked you too, would you close your eyes until I tell you it’s okay to open them? And not ask any questions afterwards?” 

“Ciel . . .?”

He made a small, defeated sound. In her lap, she felt his head moving as he shook it. “Never mind,” he said dully. “We’ll figure out something else. Maybe —”

“No,” Lizzy said. “I don’t know what good it will do, but if you ask me to, I’ll do it!” True to her word, she screwed her eyes shut, then clapped her hands over them for good measure.

Ciel was moving in her lap. She heard a rustling of fabric, and what sounded like the whisper of silk against hair. What on earth was he doing? 

“Sebastian!” he cried. “Come and find us! That’s an order!” 

Even behind her closed eyelids, she could perceive the room getting slightly brighter. Did he have a candle? Why hadn’t he brought it out earlier? But no, the light was fading now. There came a rush of sound that she couldn’t begin to identify, and something that sounded like hundreds of flapping wings. Birds? Instinctively, she shielded her face with her arm, straining to follow the sound of their movement. But a second later, the sound faded, and all she heard were footsteps crossing the floor. The room was noticeably brighter now.

“Young master?” Sebastian was saying. “Oh dear . . . I see you’ve managed to injure yourself again.” 

“It’s alright, Lizzy,” Ciel said, apparently ignoring Sebastian entirely.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Ciel dropping his hands from his eye patch. Sebastian was kneeling over him, running careful fingers up his swollen ankle. In his spare hand, the butler held a blazing candelabra. He smiled at her.

“Did you take care of the man on the stairs?” he asked. “You did a fine job of it.”

She nodded, wide-eyed. “Sebastian,” she started, then hesitated, realizing that Ciel was giving her a desperate, almost terrified look.

She’d promised not to ask any questions. 

Swallowing, she said instead, “Sebastian, I’m sorry! I let Ciel get hurt!”

To her surprise, Sebastian laughed, the rich, warm sound of his voice echoing walls of the tunnel. “I’m afraid you’ll find the young master has a surprising talent for mishaps of this nature!” The words might have been cruel, but the fondness in his voice was unmistakeable. 

Even Ciel didn’t look too put out, though he muttered, “Oh, be quiet,” as Sebastian handed the candelabra to Lizzy and scooped Ciel up in his arms. Smiling to herself, Lizzy lifted the candelabra high and started up the stairs, lighting their way with the flickering flames as they began the long ascent.

* * *

Lizzy had wanted to go to the surgeon’s with Ciel, and then home with him to help tend his wounds, but Sebastian reminded her that her parents would worry if they found her missing come morning. Reluctantly, Lizzy started for home. This time, Sebastian did not protest finding her own way in the dark, and Ciel was in too much pain to do so. 

She settled for calling on him bright and early the next morning. He didn’t meet her in the foyer as was customary. Instead, Sebastian led her to the drawing, where he sat, not behind the enormous oak desk, but in an armchair, his slender leg propped on an ottoman before him, wrapped in a white plaster cast. 

“Ciel!” Lizzy cried, rushing to embrace him. “Are you alright?” 

“The doctor says it will heal in six weeks or so,” Ciel said. 

“I brought this to help you feel better,” Lizzy said, thrusting her parcel at Ciel. He opened it, lifting her Bitter Rabbit from the box with a puzzled expression. Then he caught sight of the cast she’d fastened on its right leg, and huffed out a surprised laugh. “It can feel the pain so you don’t have to,” Lizzy explained.

Ciel shook his head. “Lizzy, that makes no sense,” he said, but he sounded fond. 

“It’s a most thoughtful gift, Lady Elizabeth,” Sebastian said, carrying a small table over to set beside them. He disappeared briefly into the corridor, then returned with a tea cart. She and Ciel sat quietly as he poured their tea, and set out a plate piled high with the adorable pink cakes Lizzy loved. With a bow, Sebastian took his leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

They glanced at each other. Lizzy couldn’t quite read Ciel’s expression, but nerves fluttered in her stomach. She couldn’t help thinking of the fight they’d had the last time they’d been in this room together. Adding a cube of sugar to her tea, she stirred it slowly to give herself time to think. Ciel took a slow sip of his own tea, frowning. The skin around his eye looked pinched, though from pain or annoyance she couldn’t tell. 

“I’m sorry!” they said at the same time. 

Lizzy blinked at him. Ciel was staring back, equally dumbfounded.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked. 

“I shouldn’t have forced my way into your investigation,” Lizzy said. “If I hadn’t, maybe you wouldn’t have fallen and hurt your leg.” She ducked her head, feeling the color rise on her cheeks. “And I’m sorry for . . . for slapping you.” 

“I deserved it,” Ciel said ruefully. “Even Sebastian said so.” He shook his head. “And you were helpful last night. You found the entrance into the tunnel, and you saved my life.” He hesitated, nervously tapping the edge of his teacup. In a smaller voice, he said, “You didn’t ask any questions. I know you must have wanted to.” 

She nodded, blinking back tears. Slim fingers touched her cheek, and she glanced up, startled. Ciel was biting his lip, looking more hesitant than she’d ever seen him. 

“You’ve never asked about that month I spent missing after the fire, either” he said. 

“I didn’t want to upset you,” she sniffled. “Whatever happened I thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it!” 

“I don’t,” he agreed. “I appreciated that you gave me space. I never thanked you for that.” Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed away her tears. “I’ll never talk about the fire, or about that month,” he said. “I can't talk about what happened last night, with Sebastian. But if you want to know about my cases, you can always ask me.” His lips quirked. “You don’t have to go to Lau.” 

“He told you?”

Ciel chuckled. “He was quite upset to think I’d tested him. Naturally, I didn’t admit that I had no idea what he was talking about. But it all made sense when you turned up last night.”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Lizzy said, taking the handkerchief from Ciel and twisting it in her lap. “Not even when I offered him money. I found out on my own.”

Ciel smirked, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied expression. “Of course not. Lau knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.” He took a sip of his tea, glancing thoughtfully at Lizzy over the edge of his cup. “It takes a discerning person to survive in my world.”

Lizzy ducked her head, blushing. 

Ciel nodded, as though coming to a decision. “You can always ask me questions,” he said. “I know you won’t abuse the privilege. I can’t promise to always answer. Some things _have_ to stay secret, even from you!” He glanced away, so Lizzy couldn’t see his visible eye, only the patch, inky black beneath his long fringe. “But I won’t lie, not to you,” he said. “I promise.”

She hesitated, then reached out, catching his earlobe between her fingers. He turned to stare at her, eye wide with shock. Only then did she realize how intimate the gesture was. Biting her lip, she drew her thumb over the stud he wore, the diamond a cool, hard contrast to Ciel’s tender skin. 

“Why did you pierce your ears?” she asked. “I never see men wearing earrings.” He drew back, hand rising self-consciously to his own ear. Lizzy clapped her hand to her mouth, suddenly worried the question had been a mistake. “Unless — did it happen to you in that month you were gone? I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have —”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Ciel said, cutting through her nervous prattle. He dropped his hand from his ear, taking a sip of tea as if to calm his nerves. “And no. Sebastian pierced them for me.” 

“But . . . why?” Lizzy asked.

In response, Ciel lifted his left hand, tapping the too-large ring he wore on his thumb. As always, Lizzy’s stomach roiled with guilt at the sight of it. “You know that this ring has been passed down through the Phantomhive family for generations,” he said. 

“Yes,” Lizzy said in a small voice. She looked down at it, trying to find the chip she knew she'd caused. As before, there was no sign of it. Whoever had patched it had done a masterful job.

Ciel ran his thumb over the gleaming surface of the blue diamond. “This stone was cut from a larger diamond called the Hope Piece.” 

“Marie Antoinette’s diamond?”

Ciel’s eyebrow lifted, and he gave an approving nod. “Of course,” he said. “The stories say thieves cut it in two to make it less recognizable. The ring is one of them. But the earrings are also said to be shards of the same diamond, broken off during the cutting process.” He touched a finger to the ring. “This is called Hope’s Price.” And, raising a hand to his glittering earlobe, “And these are called Hope’s Tears.” He shrugged, giving her an apologetic smile. “They’re stupid names, I know.”

“No!” Lizzy sniffed. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief Ciel had given her. “They’re lovely!” 

“Grandmother told me once that the house of Phantomhive will always stand as long as Hope’s Price and Hope’s Tears are worn and respected. The Earl of Phantomhive has always worn this ring, and the Countess has always worn the earrings. But since there isn’t a Countess at the moment, I thought . . .” He drifted off, twisting the stud in his left earlobe self-consciously. “Well, _someone_ had to wear them.”

“Oh, Ciel!” Lizzy cried, throwing her arms around him. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” Pulling back, she took him by the shoulders, studying the earrings with new appreciation. “And they are adorable,” she said loyally. “The color really is perfect on you! Perhaps you’ll inspire more men to wear earrings! It could be quite the fashion!” 

Ciel shook his head, but his expression was fond. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I must admit, I look forward to the day I can pass them on to you.”

“Me?” Lizzy asked in a whisper. 

He glanced down. “If you’ll still have me,” he said. “After the things I said, I would understand if—“

“Oh, Ciel, of course I will!” Lizzy cried, drawing him into another embrace. This time, he shocked her by returning it, one arm curling awkwardly around her waist, the other patting her back. She buried her face in his neck, crying tears of happiness. Then, acting entirely out of instinct, she tilted her head up and kissed him. It was quick, just a peck on the lips, but when she pulled back, Ciel was blushing. She could feel the color rising on her own cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was terribly forward of me. Mother says I’m always acting before I think.”

“No!” Ciel said quickly. “I didn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind trying it again sometime . . . When I’m feeling better, of course.” 

“Of course,” Lizzy said quickly. She was smiling so hard it hurt. “And I’ll look after you while you’re healing! I’ll be here as often as I can!” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Ciel said, and took her hand. 

The End


End file.
